


Lucius Malfoy's Wedding Night

by Cantatrice18



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Backstory, Dark Past, F/M, Family Secrets, Implied/Referenced Incest, Virginity, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 15:03:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7897246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cantatrice18/pseuds/Cantatrice18
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hours after his wedding, Lucius Malfoy receives ominous news that his new bride might not be all she seems. To protect his family honor, he is forced to take extreme measures to prove his wife is as pure of action as she is of blood. But some secrets are not meant to be revealed by magic, and when Narcissa attempts to escape from the Manor Lucius must ask himself whether his family name means more to him than his wife's privacy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lucius Malfoy's Wedding Night

All in all, the wedding had been a success, Lucius reasoned, shaking the hand of yet another distant Black relative as the guests began to disperse. The great hall of the Black mansion had been magically enlarged to accommodate the hundreds of relatives on both sides of the family, the “Toujours Pur” banners accompanied by shields and standards in the Malfoy colors of green and black. A full string orchestra sat in rows on one of the galleries overlooking the hall, their conductor signaling to them from a smaller gallery on the other side. Trays of mulled wine and hot spiked mead floated above the heads of the guests, descending when one of the partygoers needed refreshment, while from the ceiling enchanted snow fell, disappearing ten feet above the ground. Beside him Narcissa looked as radiant as he’d ever seen her, a gown of cream silk with silver lace at the hem adorning her graceful limbs, her long blonde hair braided and and studded with black opals. Only a dozen guests were left now, and Lucius reached down to take his new wife by the hand. “Shall we go, then?” he asked, raising an arched eyebrow. 

She nodded, eyes lowered, and he brought her a floor-length red cloak before leading her out the front door of her family’s home and into the night, linking his arm in hers and turning on the spot once they’d passed the threshold. Blackness closed in on all sides and the brightly lit mansion disappeared.

A moment later Lucius opened his eyes to find himself before a familiar wrought-iron gate. It swung silently inward at his touch, revealing a snowy path that wound its way through the dark and silent grounds. They walked in silence, their footsteps muted, until the great shadowy manor became visible through the falling snow. Lights were lit in the many diamond-paned windows, warm and welcoming. He smiled and picked up his pace, Narcissa following closely behind. As they reached the front door it opened, revealing a tall man in a crisp grey suit and black tie. “Good evening, Mr. Malfoy,” the butler intoned. “And to you as well, Mrs. Malfoy.”

Narcissa murmured her thanks, her cheeks pink from the cold. Lucius removed his cloak and handed it to the butler before wrapping an arm around Narcissa’s waist. “Any messages, Rolf?”

“Several, sir,” Rolf replied, taking Narcissa’s cloak from her and making it disappear with a wave of his wand. “Your father said to inform you that he will be spending the night in London after the wedding, so not to expect him back before tomorrow. A dozen more packages have arrived, all of which I took the liberty of placing in the Morning Room with the others. And your great aunt is here.”

“Meirdegard?” Lucius asked in surprise. “I was sure she’d left the wedding an hour into the dancing to go bet on the hippogriff races.”

“Not Meirdegard, sir,” said the butler apologetically. “Your other great aunt, Lady Euphina.”

Lucius blinked at him. “Euphina? But she turned down the wedding invitation, wouldn’t even hear of coming. Why on earth would she be here now?”

Rolf coughed. “I felt it would be better not to ask questions,” he said. “I offered her tea and put her in the lower drawing room, overlooking the garden.”

Lucius turned to Narcissa. “Go on upstairs and get settled. I won’t be more than a moment.”

Narcissa nodded and walked toward the staircase, the long train of her dress swishing against the stone floor. Lucius frowned, ran a quick hand through his hair, and set off toward the drawing room. Euphina was his most outspoken and opinionated aunt, a wealthy and politically-minded witch who had a tendency to stick her nose in other people’s business. He had been relieved to hear that she’d declined their wedding invitation, as she had a tendency to start arguments that spanned decades rather than hours. To have her in his house now, requesting a private word hours after his marriage, was odd enough to be worrisome.

He entered the drawing room and offered a short bow to the well-dressed woman sitting by the window. Aunt Euphina was a large witch, both tall and wide, with an arched nose and grey eyes that took in all of Lucius in less than a second. “Hmph,” she said, by way of pleasantries. “Scrub up nicely, don’t you.”

“You should see my bride,” Lucius commented before he could stop himself. 

Euphina frowned. “I have no wish to see her. I’ve heard enough about her to know that much. Which brings me to why I came here tonight: your affianced.”

“I think you’ll find, Aunt Euphina,” said Lucius coolly, “That Narcissa is now my wife.”

Euphina sniffed. “More fool you. But that is the reason I bothered to seek you out, even after your father warned me off the scent half a dozen times.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand you,” said Lucius.

“Don’t you?” shot back Euphina. “Then listen to this. Narcissa Black, the woman you call your wife, may not be worthy of the Malfoy name.”

Lucius felt heat rising to his face, and tried to quell his anger. “The Malfoy name is perfectly safe, I assure you.”

“Is it?” asked Euphina sardonically. “Because the last time I checked, purity was one of the key tenets of our house, and Narcissa Black is as impure as they come.”

“Liar,” Lucius hissed, fists clenching. “You are referring to the rumors surrounding her looks, the cruel and unproven slander claiming that she is illegitimate.”

“In this case, I believe that would be preferable,” Euphina replied, and Lucius was so surprised he forgot, for a moment, to be angry. Euphina smiled sadly and patted the arm of the chair next to her. “Sit, boy, and hear me out.”

More puzzled than ever, Lucius sat. Euphina took a sip of tea and poured Lucius a cup from the tray on the coffee table. “Drink this. You look like you need it.” She waited until Lucius took a sip, then began. “Throughout our history, and by ‘our’ I mean those families who have not stooped so low as to sully their lineage with that of half-breeds and mudbloods, there have been those pairings that good taste would deem unsuitable, and that have certainly proved unwise. It would be hypocritical not to acknowledge that we Malfoys are descended from several marriages between cousins, as are all great pure-blood families. This has led to a certain instability of temperament in the offspring of such pairings, an occasional bad egg. It is unfortunate, but there you are. However,” she looked at him sharply over the rim of her teacup, then set the cup down with a sharp clink. “There is no excuse for the sort of mischief the Black clan get up to these days.”

“Aunt Euphina, what are you implying?” asked Lucius, genuinely baffled. “I am not related to Narcissa, not more than I am to any other pureblood.”

“It’s not your relation I’m concerned with.” Euphina scowled. “This is going to be difficult to explain, particularly considering how fond of the girl you seem to be.”

Lucius tried to ignore the reference to his wife as “the girl”, but found it to be a losing battle. “If you are trying to persuade me not to marry Narcissa, I’m afraid you’re rather too late.”

“Not persuade you, boy, save you!” Euphina took a deep breath. “I have reason to believe that the woman you have just married is not chaste. Quite the opposite. I have sources that state in no uncertain terms that her virtue is a pretense, that she has lewd and vile tendencies which could bring a decent wizarding house to its knees, and that her wantonness is so far gone that she might, even now, be carrying another man’s child.”

In the blink of an eye Lucius was on his feet, wand raised. “Get out,” he said through clenched teeth. “Leave my house at once.”

Euphina rose, her head held high. “I will go. But I leave you with this.” A folded piece of parchment appeared in her hand. She tucked it under the edge of the tea tray. “This spell is centuries old, from the days when marriages were annulled if the bride proved impure. Those laws are still on the books. A drop of blood and a lock of the girl’s hair will prove if what I say is true. If I’m wrong – and I rarely am – then let it be known that I tried to ruin an innocent woman’s reputation. I’ll gladly take the blow to my credibility. But if I’m right, then there is only one night left to avoid permanent damage to our family. Think about that before you consummate this marriage and doom yourself to a union with such a woman.”

She rose to her feet, her great bulk seeming to fill the small drawing room, and brushed past him on the way to the door. “I can see myself out,” she told him coldly. A moment later, she had gone. Lucius walked slowly to the coffee table, picking up the folded bit of parchment between thumb and forefinger as though it were something rancid. The paper fell open to reveal a printed page, no doubt taken from a very old book as the letters were illuminated by hand with red and gold paint. “Hestia’s Philtre”, the title read, and beneath it, “To determine whether a false bloodline or outside contamination has corrupted a chaste bride”. Beneath that were listed half a dozen potion ingredients. He made a noise of disgust and tucked the page in his coat pocket. What a bizarre turn of events, that his aunt would turn up on his wedding night only to level such foul accusations against Narcissa, of all people. Narcissa, quiet and regal, never speaking out of turn and almost painfully perfect in matters of protocol. If he’d had the misfortune to marry Bellatrix, well, he could understand his aunt’s concern a bit better. Narcissa’s elder sister made him uncomfortable, with her brash manner and vicious hexes. He’d learned to stay out of her way when they’d been at Hogwarts together. She’d terrified her teachers and peers alike. He paused on his way out of the drawing room. Come to think of it, there were other members of Narcissa’s family that struck a sour note. Her second sister, Andromeda, who’d run off with a mudblood, and of course her wayward cousin Sirius. Was this what his aunt was warning him about? Could Narcissa be the only Black not to exhibit such erratic behavior? Or was she hiding something behind the mask of manners? Was she too good to be true?

He strode along the passages and up the stairs, his mind full of dark thoughts, until he reached the door to the master bedroom. Turning the silver, snake shaped handle, he entered without knocking. Narcissa was standing by the vanity, brushing out her hair with a comb that sparkled in the candlelight. She jumped when the door opened, her ice blue eyes growing wide, but relaxed when she saw who it was. Lucius closed the door and leaned against it, taking in the sight of her.

She wore a negligee of grey satin and a floor length robe of black lace, beneath which the white of her skin appeared to glow. Her wedding dress was draped over a nearby chair, the jewels she’d worn around her neck and in her hair neatly arrayed on the vanity. Out of her high heels she was an inch shorter than he was, but the delicate nature of her limbs and the fine bones of her face made her appear much smaller and daintier. He noticed tension in the way she carried herself, visible in her shoulders and the muscles of her neck. Was she frightened? If so, why? He hated himself for entertaining the idea that his aunt might be right. He’d known Narcissa for some time now, courted her for months before proposing. His aunt, as far as he knew, had never even met Narcissa. How could a stranger know more about his wife than he did?

Pushing aside his suspicions, he crossed the room and kissed his wife tenderly. “Alone at last,” he murmured.

Narcissa nodded, her eyes averted. Up close, her anxiety was even more pronounced. Was she nervous the way a bride should be, on the night of her wedding? Or was this a sign of guilt? He cursed inwardly, but allowed none of his frustration to show as he led her to the bed. By the time they reached it, it was impossible to ignore the fact that she was trembling. The piece of parchment in his jacket pocket seemed to burn where it lay against his chest. More to distract himself than anything, he released Narcissa’s hand and conjured two pewter goblets out of the air. Wine flowed from the tip of his wand, a deep reddish purple that appeared almost black in the light from the candelabras. He glanced down at Narcissa, who had sat upon the edge of the bed and still refused to meet his eyes. Knowing he would regret it, perhaps for the rest of their marriage, he gave his wand a flick and a tiny flask appeared beside the goblets, floating and rotating slowly. In an instant, he had removed the cork and poured the emerald green liquid into one goblet. The flask disappeared as he grasped the stems of both goblets, pressing one of them into Narcissa’s hand. “To our union, and the happiness ahead,” he said quietly, draining his own goblet. Narcissa hesitated, then slowly followed suit. The moment she lowered the goblet he saw her muscles relax. The cup dropped from her limp hand to fall with a clatter onto the stone floor. Her eyes widened in panic as she looked from the goblet to her husband standing over her, but a moment later her eyelids had closed and she fell back onto the bed, as still as death. Silently, Lucius drew a short silver knife from his belt and cut off a lock of her hair, tucking it into the pocket with the spell. Then, kneeling beside her, he grasped her arm and pressed the tip of his knife into the crook of her elbow. Blood stained the silver red, and a rivulet flowed down her pale skin. He caught the droplets in a glass vial, corking it with a wave of his wand. Standing, he took one last look at his unconscious wife before walking swiftly to the door, shutting it firmly behind him as he made his way down the corridors to his private workroom. His heart pounded against his ribs, the memory of her expression as she’d collapsed overwhelming him with guilt. This was wrong, very wrong. Perhaps there was still time to go back, to wake her and apologize. But no – he had come this far. He had to know. If she was innocent, he would beg her forgiveness, or better yet, alter her memory so that she had no record of the incident ever happening. But if his aunt was correct, and Narcissa was not whom she appeared to be…

He reached his workroom and entered, activating the lock spells that prevented anyone from entering or listening in. There was a cauldron in the far corner, next to which a cupboard with glass doors spanned half a wall and rose almost to the ceiling. He lit the fire beneath the cauldron and retrieved the spell from his pocket. It was remarkably simple, though some of the ingredients were quite costly. He imagined this was to deter commoners from using the spell more than anything else. Only those of the purest, most noble blood would need such a spell to ensure the safety of their bloodlines. He retrieved first rosewater, then fairy wings and a single unicorn tailhair, stirring in a clockwise direction. Next came dragon’s blood, twelve drops, and the venom of an Egyptian cobra. By now the potion had turned a sickening blood red and was beginning to thicken. Quickly, before the thing could congeal, Lucius added the lock of Narcissa’s hair. The concoction began to hiss and bubble, filling the room with steam. Bracing himself, he drew out the vial containing Narcissa’s blood, watching as a single drop rolled down the length of the glass tube and fell into the cauldron.

At once, the steam vanished. The fire beneath the cauldron died, its heat fading away. Within the cauldron, the potion had turned the white of new fallen snow. He did not have to check the recipe to know what the color must mean. Relief washed over him, coupled with a return of the guilt that sat like lead within him. His aunt had been wrong, and he had believed her word over everything he knew about Narcissa. He was a fool, utterly and completely. Still, he could not quell the spring in his step as he made his way back to the master suite. 

His good humor died at once upon opening the door. The bed where he’d left her was empty and bare. Her wand, too, was gone. The room was icy cold, as one of the windows had been flung wide. Hurrying over to it, he saw footprints in the snow a story below. “Narcissa,” he called out. No one answered. Taking a moment to summon his cloak from the wardrobe, he leapt from the window and floated softly to the ground. The footprints led around the house, and he followed them as best he could. The wind had picked up, erasing her tracks and causing his cloak to whip wildly around him. The night was bitter cold, clouds obscuring the moon. “Narcissa,” he called again, his voice difficult for even him to hear over the sound of the wind. Just then, the clouds shifted and a flood of moonlight illuminated the grounds. There, a dozen yards away, a thin, hunched figure struggled through the snow toward the main gate. She had nearly reached it, and he knew once she did she would be able to apparate. Without thinking, he shot a stunning spell in her direction. The spell missed by inches, but it alerted her to his presence. She looked back over her shoulder and picked up the pace, scrambling to reach the gate. “No, Narcissa, wait,” Lucius called desperately. He shot another stunning spell in her direction, which she deftly blocked, her shield charm visible as it pushed away the falling snow. She was inches from the gate now. With one last effort, Lucius croaked “Petrificus Totalus”. The body bind succeeded where the others had failed. Narcissa fell to the ground and disappeared from sight. Scrambling over the last few yards that separated them, Lucius saw that she had fallen in an odd, twisted position, a look of horror on her face. He knelt beside her, murmuring the countercurse and drawing her up into a seated position. “Narcissa, what—“

He couldn’t finish. Narcissa was struggling too hard, desperate to break his grip on her shoulders, her hands clawing at him. “Let me go, let me go, Lucius,” she screamed, voice hoarse with panic. 

“What is the matter with you, woman?” 

He yelled as he felt her teeth close around his wrist and pulled his arm back. She dove for her wand, which had fallen some feet away, but he was quicker, knocking it aside and catching her around the waist. In an instant, he had cast a half-body bind upon her legs to prevent her escape. She collapsed, sobbing and reaching vainly toward the gate. “Narcissa, explain yourself,” he commanded, his wrist throbbing from where she’d bit him. “What in the name of all things good and evil are you trying to do?”

“What am I trying to do?” Her blue eyes were suddenly alight with anger. “What are you trying to do, with your potions and lies?”

Taken aback, he blinked twice before realizing she must mean the drugged wine. There was no way for her to know about the spell he’d performed using her hair and blood. His eyes flicked to her bare arm, where the cut from his knife still showed red against her skin.

As though she could hear his thoughts, Narcissa’s eyes narrowed. “I know what you want,” she hissed. “You want to send me back to my father’s house in disgrace. You want to humiliate me and my family, ruin me forever. Why else would you have done what you did tonight, on our wedding night?”

“No, you misunderstand me,” Lucius protested, then hesitated. In a way she was right. He tried to run a hand through her hair but she pulled away, struggling against the curse that held her in place. He could see tear tracks running down her face, shining in the faint moonlight. “I had to know,” he said at last, shocked to hear the pleading note in his own voice. “The things I’d heard…the rumors, they haunted me. I needed to know if the woman I’d married was…”

“Was what?” Narcissa shot back. She was shaking, whether with rage or fear he didn’t know. “Was a whore? Was a traitor to her blood and to her family honor? Well, now you know.” She turned away. “Just let me go, Lucius. For both our sakes, let me go.”

Lucius frowned in confusion. The entire situation was strange, surreal. He had proof, undeniable proof that she was innocent, and yet her actions suggested otherwise. Why was she running from him? “Narcissa, come back inside,” he cajoled. “Talk to me.”

“There is nothing to say,” she whispered, eyes filling with tears once more.

“There is everything to say,” he countered. “Narcissa, something is terribly wrong here, and I intend to get to the bottom of it. I can do that with or without you, but I would much prefer simple honesty on both our parts to a drawn out investigation.” She shuddered and he rested a hand gently on her shoulder. “It’s late. We should be able to return to the manor with no one the wiser. In the morning, should you still wish to leave, the gate will still be here.” She did not answer, her head turned away and her eyes on the ground. Carefully, he reached out and placed his fingers beneath her jaw, turning her head so that she had no choice but to look at him. “Please, Narcissa. Try.”

He waited with bated breath. Finally, she nodded. “I leave in the morning,” she murmured.

Rather than argue, he stood, releasing the body bind and helping her to her feet. The moment she took a step forward he knew something was wrong. Her left leg wobbled beneath her and she cried out in pain, toppling off balance. He caught her before she could fall and lowered her back to the ground. “Ankle?” he asked. She nodded, and he shifted until he could draw her leg up onto his lap. Her shoes were delicate flats, meant for dancing not running through the wintery grounds. Her legs beneath her long black dress were bare, and only now did he notice her shivering. He traced the tip of his wand around her leg, a bandage appearing in the wand’s wake. Once he’d finished, he helped her stand once more. “Can you put weight on it?”

She attempted a step and moaned, biting her lower lip. Without another word, Lucius gathered her into his arms, holding her close against his chest. She clung to him, her head resting against his shoulder. With a quick motion, he called her wand to him from where it lay half buried in snow, tucking it into his pocket. Walking slowly so as not to jostle her, he made his way back to the Manor. The doors were closed, but a press of his hand against the heavy wood was enough to unlock them. Once inside, he carried her up the stairs and down the hallway to his study. He had engineered the room himself, adding a layer of secrecy spells to the already immense protections that imbued the stone of the manor. If anyone listened at the door, it would sound as though he and whoever was with him were having a sedate discussion about magical theory or philosophy. It was a complex bit of enchantment, but one well worth the effort. Few even realized the room was warded at all. As he entered, the hearth sprang to life with cheery, crackling flames. A winged velvet armchair sat neared the fire, and he deposited Narcissa in it before conjuring up a small stool upon which she could rest her ankle. When she was settled properly, he snapped his fingers twice. At once, a house elf appeared at his side, bowing low. “Tea,” he commanded. “Black, very strong.”

“Yes, sir,” the elf squeaked, disappearing with a loud crack. A moment later it had returned, bearing a large tea tray with settings for two and a pile of golden brown biscuits at the center.

“There,” Lucius pointed to the coffee table. The elf sat the tray down and prepared to leave. “A moment,” said Lucius, and the elf paused. “Tell no one of this,” he commanded.

The elf shook his head vigorously, ears flapping. “I keep my silence,” it responded with a bow. A second later it had gone.

The sound of the elf’s disapparation faded, leaving the room in silence save for the fire. Lucius poured a cup of tea for Narcissa, adding a single cube of sugar, then took another cup for himself and drew up a chair across the table from his wife. She was staring at the fire with the expression of a deer in the midst of a hunt. “Drink,” he instructed. “You’ll feel better.”

She took a sip of the tea, then another. Slowly, her limbs began to still. Only when she had finished her first cup and he had poured her a second did he speak. “No one can hear us here. We are free to talk without interruption or eavesdroppers. It is currently,” he glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. “Half past one. At dawn the household begins to wake. We have until then before any questions are asked.”

Narcissa did not reply, so he took a sip of tea, allowing the silence between them to grow. “I would like to tell you a story, if you would permit me,” he said at last. “It concerns my parents, and most likely their parents before them as well. It won’t take long.” He waited until she nodded before continuing. “My father, whom you’ve met, is not a softspoken man. In politics and worldly matters he is different, but at home he says what he thinks, loudly and with little thought for others. One thing he is fond of saying is that pureblood witches should concern themselves with breeding a new generation of great wizards, rather than make any attempts at greatness themselves. He has long held the view that anything developed or discovered by a witch was likely found by a wizard first, and has even suggested that Hogwarts be made into a boys school. He is not alone in this,” Lucius added quickly. “I’m sure you’ve encountered such sentiment before. But I mention it because over time it drove a wedge between my father and mother. From what I hear, she was a gifted witch herself during her school days. But they married young, and from that point onward her duty was to her husband and, of course, to me. She did her duty admirably, but her actions were entirely separate from that of my father. They led different lives, barely even seeing one another save at family dinners. When she died, my father had to be reminded to mourn. Theirs was, as so many pureblood marriages are, a marriage for the sake of the lineage.” He leaned forward. Narcissa was not looking at him, he could see the flames of the fire reflected in her eyes, but he could sense that she was listening. “I tell you this because I want you to know where I come from. My father did not love. He did not feel passion, only duty to the Malfoy name. In that respect, I am nothing like my father. I have no interest in a marriage of convenience, an alliance of noble houses. I want more than that. I want a wife I can respect as a witch and as a woman, whom I can love and trust.” He paused, allowing the emotions that had risen within him to settle. “I believe, Narcissa Black Malfoy, that you can be that woman. Had I not believed it, I never would have courted you, never asked for your hand, and never married you. However,” he saw her eyes dart toward him before returning to the fire. “I need to know that my trust is not misplaced. As I have mentioned, I would rather hear from you the reasons that you ran tonight than find out through other sources. I promise, I won’t judge you for whatever you might say. And I won’t renounce you, no matter what you tell me.”

“You will,” Narcissa murmured. “You’d be a fool not to. I was mad to think I could hide it, that I could pretend…but you must understand, Lucius, it was not my choice.”

“Not your choice to marry me?” he asked, heart sinking.

“No! No, of course not,” she cried, her eyes meeting his at last. “I wanted to marry you, wanted it more than anything. When I told him—when I told my father, he laughed at me, said there was no way a Malfoy, any Malfoy, would take me. But you did.”

“Of course I did.” His fingers itched to entwine in her hair, to feel the softness of her skin, but he restrained himself. “You’re perfect for me: beautiful, clever, well-bred. If your father said such things, it is obvious he doesn’t truly know you.”

“But he does, Lucius,” Narcissa murmured, a strange note of pity in her voice. “Don’t you see? He knows me too well, more than any father should know his daughter.”

Realization came to him slowly, as though his mind could not fully process the horror she was implying. “Surely not,” he whispered, staring at the woman before him. “He’s the one? He’s the man my aunt warned me about?”

“Your aunt?” Narcissa frowned, confused.

He nodded. “My aunt, the one who was waiting for me when we returned from the wedding, she came to warn me. She filled my head with suspicions, with images I couldn’t rid myself of. I don’t blame her – the fault is mine, all mine.”

“What did she say?” Narcissa asked quietly.

“I don’t think it bears repeating,” he replied.

“Tell me,” she insisted. “Tell me what they’ve been saying. I want to know.”

Lucius hesitated. “She said…well at first she described the history of pureblood intermarriage. Then she accused you of lewd behavior, of deception. She insulted your purity and that of your family. And then…” he bowed his head, ashamed to even form the words. “She said you were carrying another man’s child,” he finished.

“And you believed her?” 

Lucius nodded, face burning with shame. “I did, yes. I should have asked you, I see that now.”

“I wouldn’t have told you,” Narcissa replied, self-loathing present in every word. “I would have been too afraid. Yesterday, during the wedding, I was frightened every moment, terrified of what those around me could be saying. I was so afraid something would go wrong, that you would change your mind, that you would hear…” she looked away. “And then you did,” she finished softly, her voice breaking.

“Narcissa…” he stood slowly and moved until he stood by her side. “I understand your reluctance to tell me. Whatever your father did, it’s not my place to ask, and certainly not acceptable to force the information out of you by magic.”

“Magic?”

Lucius paused, embarrassed. “Well, yes. The spell I used tonight, the potion for which I took your blood and a lock of your hair, that was to determine your, well, chastity.”

What little color remained in Narcissa’s face drained away. “My…chastity?” she whispered, horrorstruck. “You were that desperate to know?” She held out her hand. “Let me see this spell.”

He reached slowly into his pocket and gave the bit of parchment to her, watching her unfold it as though it were poisonous to the touch. “The results were negative,” he informed her.

“They—what?” Narcissa muttered, frowning at the paper. “But I…” she paused, her eyes widening in astonishment. Then, incredibly, she began to laugh. The laughter went on and on, crazed and hysterical. “Narcissa,” said Lucius, concerned, but she waved him away. “Of course the results were negative,” she giggled, looking utterly mad. “Of all the spells in all the world…” 

She dissolved into laughter once more. Lucius frowned, annoyance mingling with his concern. “Care to let me in on the joke?”

“False bloodline,” Narcissa choked. “Outside contamination.” Then, quite suddenly, her laughter stopped. Her eyes narrowed as she glared at Lucius with such strength that he took a step back. “What is it you are trying to do, Lucius? Your own test proved me innocent, so you decided to coax information out of me the old fashioned way? If I hadn’t given you the answers you wanted to hear, would you have tried torture next?”

“No, of course, I—“ Lucius felt bewildered, unable to keep his thoughts in order. “I didn’t mean to, to interrogate you. It was only because you ran…”

“I ran because of you, because of your cruel and foolish actions,” Narcissa spat. “You talk about trust as though it’s a one way proposition, as though our marriage license means that you deserve to know every detail of my mind and heart without giving up anything of yourself in return. That’s not trust, Lucius. That’s veritaserum.”

She rose unsteadily to her feet, and he leapt forward, arms outstretched to catch her. “Where are you going?” he demanded, fear beginning to take over within him. He couldn’t lose her, not like this, not so soon after the wedding. “Please, Narcissa,” he begged, kneeling in front of her. “Forgive me. Stay with me. I swear I’ll never ask another question, only please…”

“Oh, Lucius,” she murmured sadly. “Don’t you see? I can’t trust you.”

He crumpled, her words like a knife in his heart. He felt her fingers in his hair, long and gentle. “I’m sorry, Lucius. I wish there was a way to begin again. I wish I were different.”

“I don’t,” he murmured, grasping her wrist and pulling it close enough to kiss her hand. “I would not have a single hair of you different than you are now. I love you. I couldn’t see that before, I was blinded by false notions of purity, just like my father.” He released her with difficulty. “Go, then,” he choked out. “I will find some excuse. Our marriage was never consummated, it can be annulled. You can be free again.”

She knelt beside him, wincing at the pain in her ankle. “Lucius, I was never free. Not in my father’s house, not at school, never. The Black family is a prison as secure as Azkaban. Only my sister escaped, with her filthy mudblood marriage. I haven’t the heart to do that. I can only move from one cage to another.”

He moved his way up her arm, pressing his lips against her bare skin, savoring the softness of her, the vaguely floral scent that clung to her. “Stay,” he whispered, longing in his voice. “Stay, and I will make the entire world our cage. I’ll protect you, keep you safe, and guard your secrets. I swear, by my family’s honor, never to use magic on you without your permission, and never to question you. Stay…”

In an instant her lips were on his, the kiss full of longing and pain. “I’ll stay,” she said, when they broke apart. “It’s for the best. Despite what my family has done, I still owe it to them not to disgrace their name. And besides, I’m not prepared to lose everything because of this one night. ”

He kissed along her neck, his hands straying to her waist. “Thank you. You won’t regret it.”

He noticed a soft rosy glow on the walls around them. Dawn was breaking, the sun’s early rays shining through the window. Narcissa noticed it too and drew closer to him. He held her for a long moment, then stood and gathered her into his arms, careful not to jostle her injured ankle. “Open,” he said to the door, and it silently obeyed, the locking spells fading away. Noiselessly, he crept down the halls until he reached their bedroom once more. Setting Narcissa down on the side of the bed, he knelt and examined her ankle. “I’m no good with this sort of thing,” he admitted. 

“It can wait,” she replied. “It barely hurts any more.” She lifted the coverlet and shifted her body in an attempt to get under it. 

“Wait,” Lucius commanded, and she stopped, looking up at him. With one hand he threw back the covers, while with the other he carefully drew something from within his coat pocket. Opening his fist he revealed a tiny glass vial half full of a deep red liquid. “Is that…?” Narcissa whispered.

Lucius opened the vial and tipped it upside down, allowing a pattern of small droplets to fall onto the white sheets. They glittered in the dawn light before sinking into the fabric. He looked up at Narcissa. “There. It’s your blood. That makes it official, as far as an outsider is concerned.”

Narcissa was staring down at the red stains on the white cloth. “My blood…”

Lucius nodded. “When it comes to the actual act…well, that’s up to you. When you’re ready, and only then.”

To his shock she laughed, a soft, silvery sound that seemed to float through the air. “Oh Lucius, you gentleman.” Her lips met his and her arms laced around his neck. “I promise you won’t have too long to wait. Just let me rest for a few hours.”

She fell back against the down pillows, hair fanning out behind her. She still wore her outdoor clothes, save for her shoes, which she’d lost somewhere along the way. With a quick twist of the coverlet, he hid her body from view. There might still be questions about her ankle or the footprints they’d left in the snow, but those could be answered later. Right now all that mattered was that she was here beside him, eyes closed peacefully, chest rising and falling in time with the ticking clock. Pressing one last kiss to her forehead, Lucius settled himself beneath the covers and drifted off to sleep.


End file.
